


The Left Side of the Bed

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 21:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'I was wondering if I could get some Mike/reader fluff where it's the reader's first time sleeping with him (like actually going to sleep in the same bed, not sex lol)'Adorable sleepy Texan seeks bedmate.





	The Left Side of the Bed

You look at yourself in the mirror, and sigh, before putting the toothbrush back into your mouth and scrubbing a little more. This is scary, and you don’t know why – it’s hardly like you two haven’t slept together. You just haven’t…  _slept_ together.

Which strikes you as weird, but hey.

You’ve made an effort he better not get used to; you’ve shaved all the parts of your body that’re going to be outside your pyjamas, a brand new vest and panties set, and you’ve moisturised – like, all over. You’re not sure why. He’s seen you naked. You just… aren’t sure what’s protocol any more.

“ _Darlin’? You done in there?_ ”

“Almost,” you call back, and look critically in the mirror. Will you smell nice to be curled up to? Are you suitably soft? Will your pyjamas be itchy?  _What if he chokes on your hair when he’s spooning you_?

Why do you  _care?!_

You sigh, and shake your head, before spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth out. This feels like a big frontier for you both; Mike enjoys the company of ladies, but liking you enough to move you in? That was a big step.

As you open the door, he’s standing there – you experience a small-scale cardiac arrest as you see he’s wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs – and you stand aside.

“You look gorgeous,” he says in that deep, Texan voice, and kisses you. “Minty fresh. I like it.” You blush, and he squeezes your ass. “Let me just get ready.” You nod, and traipse down the hallway towards what you suppose is now your bedroom.

It’s cute in here – homely, in warm colours and very minimal. He has a giant koala bear in the corner you want to ask about, but otherwise it’s very… Mike. You lie on the bed – white duvet, red corduroy coverlet, very nice – and stare up at the ceiling, biting down on your lip.

What if he snores? What if you snore? What if your sleep-talking comes back? You wince as you look at the patterns the paint has made on the ceiling. You definitely do not want to be woken up by Mike at 4am to ask you to move your ass to the couch because you’re giving a playthrough of the baseball game in your head.

You wonder why you’ve never stayed somewhere with him before. It’s just never happened, really – what with you living far away, the few chances you get to see him tend to be interludes. It was easier to just grab him where you could – ahem.

“(Y/N)?”

You look over at the door, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Is it too hot in here? There is AC, y’know.”

“No. Just thinking. Uh… ready to… hit the hay?” you ask, nervously, and he nods; you scoot back, pulling the covers up, and then pause. “Uh… what side do you want?”

“Either’s fine,” he says, a little smile touching his mouth. “I’ll go for left since you’re… there already, sweetheart.” You nod and scuttle under the covers, and he climbs in on the left side. “Do you… uh, read before you go to bed?”

“Nope. I just… uh…” You swallow, and he reaches out, pulling you close and lying your head on his chest; you relax instantly, fingers on his warm skin, and he strokes your hair.

“You nervous? Me too, sweetheart.” You listen to his breathing as you lie there, not speaking. “I mean, that’s dumb, or at least I think it’s dumb I’m scared of sharing a bed with you, but… you know. Maybe we’re both dumb?” You nod. “Good. Let’s be dumb together.”

“What if I snore?” you ask quietly.

“What if I can’t sleep?” he counters.

“What if your bedcovers give me an allergic reaction?” you fire back, smiling a little.

“What if I hate being on the left?” he smiles.

“We’re overthinking this, aren’t we,” you say quietly, and he nods, kissing your hair. You rest there, against his chest, for another moment, and he cradles your face with his hand.

“Well, how about we try, and if we really can’t bear each other, we flip a coin and maybe y’all will be banned to the couch, how ‘bout that?” he teases you affectionately, and you poke his ribs.

“You wish. Alright.”

He reaches out, turning off the lamp, and the two of you snuggle down into the covers; he wraps his arms around you, and you sigh, adjusting to his breathing as you lie there, listening to the autumn sounds outside. Slowly, the breaths from behind you turn into low rumbles, and you smile to yourself, your own eyelids fluttering shut.

* * *

You wake up the next morning very confused, with a faceful of pillow and an arm thrown carelessly across your waist, to the sound of snoring.

“M’ke?” you mumble, looking over, and he is splayed out on his front, hair wild and mussed up; you smile, and snuggle over to him, kissing his cheek gently. “Honey, you’re snoring…”

“N’m n’t. Y’ll’r’ sn’r’n’.” The fact he can form a sentence half-asleep makes you laugh, and you nuzzle up close to him. “No, no. I’m gettin’ up, I swear…” He looks up, and his warm umber eyes crinkle as he smiles at you. “We survived! A whole night, y’hear. We survived.”

“We did,” you murmur, and he pulls you in close.

“Now, let’s celebrate by sleepin’ s’more.” He kisses the top of your head, and you snuggle into his chest. You’re up for that…


End file.
